


What Came Back

by SilverDrake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Gen, Gore, Hell, M/M, Purgatory, Season/Series 08-09 Hiatus, Suicide, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDrake/pseuds/SilverDrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Angels fall and the Winchesters race back to the Men of Letters Bunker, a wingless Castiel holds the answer to a question that could destroy Dean Winchester once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Came Back

  


#  I

  
There was something very wrong with Dean.  
Crowley, still in handcuffs, was muttering something incoherent on the backseat of the Impala, occasionally breaking into a sob spell.  
Sam, of his own, was still feeling like his whole organism was being turned inside out, and he half expected to have some part of him explode any second soon. Despite the pain, though, his mind was now clearer that it had been for a while, and he was worried about his brother.  
Sam always had a way to see how Dean was faring in their travels and labours. It was how he drove the Impala. The Impala was safety, the Impala was home, the Impala was one of the few places where Dean could find his balance. Except for when the pain was too strong.   
He never took the time to enjoy the roar of the engine, he never pushed the wheels to feel them strain on the  tarmac , he didn't even think of putting on music, though that may have been as a regard to Sam.   
Anyway, Dean was driving mechanically, without any enjoyment or feeling of love for the Impala, and that was never a good sign.   
«Bloody hell, guys,» Crowley suddenly groaned behind them, «you're making me remember why I wanted out of humanity so much.»  
Dean threw a furious glance in the rearview mirror.  
«Hit him,» he ordered, cold.  
«What?» asked Sam.  
«Damn it, Sam, just hit him!» Dean bellowed.  
As his brother hesitated, Dean steered and stopped the car brusquely on the side of the road. Before Sam could understand what was happening, Dean pulled Crowley out of the car threw him on the soil.  
When Sam came out of the car, Dean was already beating the demon brutally. He kept kicking him so violently that Crowley was nearly pushed under the car, retching blood from his mouth.  
«Dean, stop!» Sam cried, but he continued, in a dreadful silence.  
«DEAN!» he screamed again, but nothing.  
Sam pulled himself along and around the car just as his brother pulled Crowley back on his feet and slammed him on the trunk of the car. And not one word, he was cold as ice as he headbutted the demon down and raised his fist. He would have smashed on Crowley's chest if Sam didn't fall on Dean, too weak to do anything better.  
«What the hell, Dean?» Sam cried, hoping that surprise would be enough to wake his brother up from his destructive daze.  
Dean stopped as he had started. He was hardly panting, and apparently not shaken at all. He leaned down on Crowley.  
«Maybe you will be more useful alive,» he growled.  
«So why did you nearly killed him?» Sam asked.  
«He had it coming,»  
Dean said, dismissive. «Let's load him in the trunk.»  
«Where we keep all the weapons? Besides, he would suffocate there with all the stuff.»  
«But he won't stain the seats,» Dean half-smiled, in the worst imitation of a smile Sam had seen on his face in a long while.  
Dean pulled himself off the ground, with a litttle effort to shake some mud off his jacket. he didn't even look at his brother and climbed back in  the driver seat.  
«Put that junk on the backseat and come on back in, Sam. Let's go home.»  
Sam tried to regain his bearings, then looked at Crowley, unconscious and bleeding. Abbadon had nothing on this beat up. There would be a lot of questions to ask, just as soon as that low, thunderous din would stop hammering his head.  
As Dean tapped impatiently on the wheel, Sam managed to haul Crowley back in and dragged himself to the other side. He fell heavily in his seat as Dean revved up the engine and got back on the road.  
«We...» he strained, from the pain and the effort he had just made, «we need to talk.»  
«Man, we do,» Dean answered,  without as much as a hint in Sam's direction . «In the batcave.»  
The Impala rode on in absolute silence for the rest of the way.  
  


***

  
It was raining when they reached the bunker.  
Sam dragged himself to the door and banged the signal on the door.  
Kevin Tran opened and looked at him with bewilderment in his face.  
«Man, you look like hell! What happened?» he said as he helped Sam in.  
Dean dragged Crowley, still unconscious.   
Sam noticed that there were red lights flashing here and there, and some of the older hardware was apparently working very hard in registering something. But with that low din was still hammering at his head, he could not make out much more, except for the muffled voice of Kevin as he led them to the map.  
Red dots, too many to count, spread all over the world.  
«Are those what I think they are?» asked Sam.  
«You tell me,» said Kevin, breathing haevily as he eased Sam down on a chair.  
Dean looked at the map and grinned.  
He dropped Crowley down, letting him hit the floor with a loud thump. There was a muffled sound of complaint, but Dean silenced it with a kick so violent Sam almost expected the demon's skull to split wide open. But he simply rolled and hit the railings.  
Kevin nearly smiled by instinct, then something dawned upon him and he looked at the body on the floor with a new awareness. His stare moved quickly from Crowley to Dean and finally to Sam.  
«Guys, it there something you should tell me? Because, if you do, I think you better tell me very quickly.»  
Dean had put his hands on the map table like he owned it, and was looking at the map with a glint in his eyes. Sam was no longer making the effort to keep his eyes open and wore a deepening frown.  
«Dean!» Kevin shouted. «Why is Crowley here?»  
«Because we stopped,» Dean said, still studying the map.  
«I am here, Dean, can you please look at me?» said Kevin, with growing frustration in his voice. «What happened? What really happened, I mean. Did Sam...»  
«Finish the job?» answered Dean, without raising his head. «No, he didn't, of course.»  
Sam flinched in silence. There was something in his brother's tone that scared him. It just felt wrong after all they had confessed to each other in the church. He tried to convince himself it was just the tension they were all feeling after interrupting the trial and seeing the angels fall. He failed.  
Something had happened to Dean, and Sam could not understand when and how. They had been together the whole time, and Crowley was nearly exorcised; and he was still held by the demonic handcuffs. There was something else, he was sure of it, but it kept escaping him.  
«Dean, snap out of it,» called Kevin, as Dean kept watching the map. «What happened.»  
«I stopped Sammy,» Dean said, without taking his eyes off the screen. «And now angels are raining on Earth.»  
«Angels?»  
«Don't worry. You stay inside here, they die out there. Very simple when you get the hang of it.»  
Kevin shrugged.  
«Sorry, man, it won't be that easy. I've read a lots of things on the Angel Tablet, and fighting a whole host at a time... it would be just insane.»  
«You read, I stabbed. I stopped a damn Apocalypse that way, and it's gonna work this time too.»  
Kevin looked at him more and more incredulous. He walked the map back and forth a couple of times before speaking again.  
«You know that thing I said earlier about motivation, Dean. I think you completely missed the point.»  
«No, man, you are missing it,» said Dean, somehow irritated. «You see these lights here? We are in the damn day after! It's thousand of extremely pissed off walking atom bombs ready to make a mess of a whole planet. The Leviathans were a joke, compared.»  
«Didn't they... break Castiel, if I remember?»  
«The mess he had made, that was another thing. Plus he had just been god for a while, and that cannot have helped him. Look, Kevin, like it or not we are in a war. A war that just got messier. We just have to add the angels to the target list. Whatever they think, they are going to become our collective bitch.»  
«And Sam?»  
«Sam will come around when I say he must come around, as always.»  
Sam felt himself sinking. It did not make any sense. It didn't even seem to be the same Dean he had talked to in the church, it was something colder and more primal.  
«So what do you say, el comandante?» asked Kevin. «Any operation to start right now in our Angelic World War?»  
Dean looked at him in surprise, like he did not expect such a reaction at all. He seemed at the same time annoyed by Kevin's cold reaction and embarrassed by something he himself had done. To Sam he looked incredibly confused.  
There was a long, awkward silence.  
«I... I think we are all tired and stressed,»  
he said. «Maybe we should sleep a few hours and then come back with a plan. Sort of.»  
The others seemed to relax.  
«Just remember,» he added, «to lock up Crowley. Maybe give him a beating just to be sure he knows his place.»  
As he left for his room, Sam and Kevin exchanged a very worried glance.  
  


***

  
Dean sighed in frustration as he closed the door of his room.  
That was  what he needed now. Solitude, seclusion, away from everyone.  
He needed to be alone with his thoughts. Or did he? The room had a different feeling this time, not as welcoming as usual. If it hadn't been the Bunker, he would have put salt on the door.  
But it was something else, something that came from another place and that he could not stop. Something he had felt around the time he had seen the angels fall. Now it was there, in a corner where a shadow had just appeared. Out of nowhere, in a spot that should have been illuminated.   
There was a man, there. A well known face, one that Dean would recognize even in the shadows. One that had kept him company for years once, and whose presence he had felt many times beside him.  
«You aren't telling them,» said the man in the shadow.  
«Are you?»  
The man shrugged.  
«I don't have that much power over you. Yet.»  
«You don't? Because it seems to me you very well do,» said Dean. bobbing his head slightly to try and see inside the darkness.  
He was feeling tense. He remembered feeling a sort of slight jolt and his mind getting more hostile and angry, spiteful and cruel. And violent.  
«You know, Dean, this is the very best part of corrupting a soul. The thrill, the taste that it leaves in my mouth for years on end every time. This.»  
«This what?»  
«The feeling you are experiencing right now,»  
the man  explained, delighted. «That boundaries are breaking and falling, that you cannot really say what is that you do because of me and what is it you do because of yourself. You no longer know what you means anymore. And this scares you a thousand times more than the fact that you are seeing me right here and now.»  
Dean's jaw clenched tighter as the words hit home. There were too many true things in them that he dared not confess to his brother and his friends. Even if he was only talking to a projection of himself.  
«It scares me more because what I do is real, and you are just an hallucination.»  
«Am I?»  
«You cannot be really here... can you?»  
«And there you are, Dean, again. Walls coming down, doubts creeping in. Right as hell I should not be here. I cannot possibly be here. And here I stand. And you cannot send me away. Why is that?»  
In silence, Dean picked up a knife from the rackand pressed his hand against the blade until it started to redden. He did not say a word, but his face was contracting in controlling the spasm.  
«I am not an hallucination, Dean, you should know it by now.»  
Dean forced himself to smile, as if he had it expected.  
«Had to try.»  
He opened a drawer, keeping the wounded hand away as blood dripped on the floor.  
«You should be more careful with that,» said the man in the shadow. «I may need it one day.»  
Dean stopped rummaging through the clothes.  
«You think?» he growled.  
He picked up a handkerchief and tied it as a makeshift bandage on the wounded hand, then turned to the man and came one step away from him, where the shadows had formed in the corner of the room.  
His eyes narrowed and he took another step. The shadows dissolved and the man with them, only to reappear in another corner of the room.  
«Still saying you are not an hallucination?»  
«Not at all, Dean,»  
the man said. «I am in your head, that's for sure.»  
«If Sam entered now...»  
«He would not see me, and you wouldn't either. But you would know that I am still here. As you have always known through these years. That's why you haven't asked who I am. You already know.»  
«I never forget an old enemy.»  
«You would say that, wouldn't you?» the man laughed with spite. «But you saw me die. You would have no reason to be sure I am what I seem.»  
«Intuition.»  
«If you say so. But you also know there is only one reason I can be here with you.»  
Dean closed his eyes and nodded, then stared in the shadow, almost searching for something in its corners and folds.  
«And now what?»  
«Intrusive thoughts. That's where it always starts. They spread, so very slowly. One each time you are in a stress condition, pushing you a little bit farther where I want you to go. And with time they feel more natural, and that's when new thoughts are pushed in. They others have become part of your thinking and would only slow you down.  
«And there's the bloodlust. You experienced it today because you were thrown off balance. It won't come back again for a bit. BUt when it comes back it will consume you. Today it was just a taste, and I know you enjoyed it.»  
«You seem to know a lot of things,» Dean dismissed him.  
«I was with you the whole time, I was bound to notice.»  
«I don't remember you being there.»  
Dean's voice sounded more and more flat, as if he was trying  to convince himself of what he was saying. And failing at that.  
«Sure you remember. Isn't that why you tried to keep them around? Why you even trusted a vampire so that you could get back to your friends and not be alone?»  
«Purgatory was different,» answered Dean, feeling his own voice hoarse.  
«I remember. You said it felt pure. And I was there when you were feeling pure, if that is what you want to call it. It was primal, sure,»  
he laughed, «it was unbridled and savage and unstoppable. And you rode the tide, you grabbed by the horns and never let go and I was so damn proud of you. It remembered me so much of our time together.»  
«That time is gone. Long gone.»  
«No, Dean, it never was. You convinced yourself of that. And you were protected from it, and from becoming fully aware of what lay in you. But deep down you have always known. Shall I help you recall?  
«A touch of rage here, a needless hit there. You always write those off because you think it's the heat of the fight, but you are more than a fighter. You are a warrior, a soldier, you never do things by accident. And there's more.  
«Psychology, that one I love. Mankind sees itself so civilized because physical violence is controlled. But what about psychological violence? You never let your brother off the leash, do you?»  
«You don't know what you are talking about,» growled Dean.  
«You were so dutiful in reminding him of his every misstep, of all his failures. I think you managed to make him feel guilty even for being the one on the Trials, for dying to save the world. Must be a great sensation. And what was about that angel of yours--»  
«Stop it!» shouted Dean. «You are just trying to worm your way into my head. This is all bullcrap just to make me let you in.»  
«I told you Dean,» the man said, as the room grew dark and cold. «I am already in there. I am, in fact, a part of you.»  
At the sound of a deafening hammer, Dean blinked and found himself in Hell.   
Torture racks and victims were all around him. Souls, waiting for  torment to begin anew. And he had a knife in his hand. Not his own knife, a knife to cut into souls without actually damaging them. Because they were needed in the long term.  
But however illusory their appearance may have been, they all looked intensely human. Surely, the kind of humanity Dean usually saw on History Channel in specials on the Second World War or the persecutions of Vlad Tepes. And worse. They were nailed to crosses, pentagrams, hexagrams and other shapes he did not recognize; some were impaled, some hung to an invisible ceiling by hooks or simply by ropes and entrails tied to their limbs.  
He felt pity for them, and their screams  were tearing his head apart. They had gone on for so long. Was it days? Or even more.  
Dean walked up to one of them and raised a trembling hand to comfort. He caressed the damaged face, but as he did, the face shivered in pain. That was when he realized his hand was caressing burnt skin, smouldering slowly in his palm. It hadn't been like that before. Had he missed that? Or was it his hand that did it?  
The scream of the soul was no louder than a thousand other shrieking through his ears, but had a haunting melody to it that made Dean feel sick. He could not stand it. He wanted to ask it to stop, but he couldn't. There were no words in that hall, only howls of pain and desperation.  
Answering to an isntinct he had forgot, he brought his hand over the mouth of the tortured soul. And clenched it hard, digging into the remains of the cheek to press on bone and teeth and make it stop, if just for a minute.   
Somehow he knew  that, if it could not scream, maybe it would calm down. Maybe it would suffer less. And maybe he did not care that much.  
He looked at the knife in his hands and wondered. He seemed to remember something about how the knife worked and what it was, but it was all escaping him, now. Maybe he could have mercy of the poor soul.   
He rose his hand and hit, strong and direct, nut to no avail. The soul was still in pain, maybe even more so. He tore the knife out of the wound, which singed itself back into nothing, the skin looking nearly pristine, and another howl underlining the change.  
Without thinking, he drove the knife over the skin, thinking of what he could do, and as he did the knife  began to sank again, deeper and deeper as he carved flesh and threw away chunks  of a matter that was nor human nor earthly in any way. Every time he cut there was a glow, and blood came out slow and thick. The little chunks of flesh sizzled on the floor and liquified.  
His mind was no longer trying to rationalize the process. He simply drove the knife and pressed and drew and traced and brushed, and the lament of the soul was music that followed his lead over the brutal symphony of the hall. And just moments after he finished and lifted the knife, the skin around the wounds crackled and rippled like old parchment, and a pleasant whiff of smoke came to him. He stepped back a bit to watch his handiwork.  
Then it all came back to him.   
«A work of art,» laughed the man in  the shadow behind him. «And you did it all by yourself.»  
Dean watched in horror as the empty stare of  the soul tried to focus on him through the pain it was enduring. As the smoke came to its face, though, it ignited its skin and burned it away, taking the eyes with it. What seconds earlier was a human visage had become a barely recognizable husk of burnt flesh and coagulated blood, a skull shaped taper lit too long.  
«Please, no,» was all Dean could mutter.  
He wanted to fix it, he wanted to undo everything, but he knew he could not. The soul was not howling anymore, and the only sound coming out of its throat was a incoherent sequence of hisses and chokes. In Dean's head, though, those echoed as if amplified a thousand times over every other horrifying sound of the hall. And the head bobbing blindly without eyes felt like the most direct accusatory stare he had ever faced.  
As disgusted as he was by the physical reality of the creature before him, Dean wanted to hold it, to help it in some way he did not even know. He reached out again, frantically. But  he couldn't seem to let go of the knife, and just as his hand touched the creature a new cut was made. He pulled it back and tried to comfort with his unarmed hand, but it sizzled on the skin of the thing as soon as he touched it. To his horror, he found this time he could not pull away, as if the heat had fused the hand to the creature. And it kept searing the creature's flesh.  
As the flesh melted under his touch, Dean saw his hand dig deeper into the creature, through a luminous incorporeal substance. Until it struck something. Something beating. Something alive, if such a thing was possible in that place. As soon as he gripped to it by instinct, the creature turned its head down to him, trembling. It was no longer hissing and chocking, but sucking in in rapid bursts. It was afraid, Dean felt, if it made sense to still be afraid of something after everything it must had been subject to.  
He tightened his grip on the heart of the creature and it stopped sucking, suddenly breathless. To Dean it was like finding a sudden island of quiet in the incessant din of the hall. He found he did want to relinquish that sensation. He resolved to tighten the grip instead.  
Slowly, the creature contorted in silence, its  mouth wide open with no sound, its blistered and molten skin drying up and cracking, exposing the flesh, raw and red with rashes.  
The more Dean tightened his grip, the more the rest  of the body pulsed around the constricted heart. He would have wanted to say sorry. Once. Not now, after what felt like centuries to him.   
Whatever version of him knew about feeling sorry, it seemed a distant memory, not that far from something else, a facet of himself that was coming to his mind stronger and stronger as a cold metallic taste filled his mouth, so thick he thought he may drown in it. It was an invitation, a request to come in and become one again with what he had been. It made him breathless and disoriented, and he suddenly could not see the soul clearly before him.  
With a squeashy sound, his hand was now free. Only it was holding a heart, still beating and dripping blood from its vessels, who knows where it took it from since it never ran out. Dean looked at it with curiosity, unable to summon any other emotion in himself. He held it before his face, and brought it close to lick the bloody surface.   
The taste was sweet and, somehow familiar. It was supposed to remind him of something, but Dean could not place it because he realized he had no memories anymore. Even his name was a notion he could barely acknowledge, and would probably forget very soon. And there was one more thing he was missing.  
He noticed it as he lowered the heart and it touched his chest. There was a hole there. How could he be still alive he did not know. Nor did he care. But he wondered what would happen if he put the heart in there. So he pushed it in. And he screamed.  
Dean screamed with such a force he retched bile and blood as he twisted back in pain, the flow dripping along his mouth and neck, burning.  Neither his thoughts were any safer. As he felt his skin crackle, peel and melt like the creature that was now fading before him, every single jolt of pain and realization of sorrow from his life came back, all at once.   
And in front of all those moments, the ones he never told anyone about. The fear of not being up to the task, the solitude, the distance from those who believed themselves close to him, the regrets, and last in line Purgatory and Hell.   
The mindless violence, so pure in Purgatory that sometimes he felt he wanted back. Not a thought, not an impulse, only reaction and pure instinct. No time to fear, and surely no responsibility. Against all the choices he had to take through the years. Pure, unadulterated existence to fill the emptiness, or maybe to avoid thinking of it.  
And Hell. When he had learned to take pleasure from inflicting pain. But wasn't that part of everyone, after all? Maybe, but there  he had seen what really laid under the surface of all those little manipulations people lived with.  And it was control that had seduced him so strongly, control and power over the others, the feeling of a world that now turned to his tune. And every lament of pain was a chant to his dominance. Only it left a question he had never voiced aloud: was he any different from a demon or the countless creatures he had hunted so long? And did he care at all?  
The shame of this realization seemed to engulf him, making it harder to breathe and dragging him in a dark unstoppable fall, until he found himself on the floor of his room, a puddle of drool and vomit staining the side he had fallen on.  
«You have something on your face,» mocked Alastair, from the shadow.  
Instinctively, Dean looked at his hands: the fingers were stained with red. As  he touched his cheek, the hand came away with fresh blood, lazily dripping on his neck.  
«You could say you clawed your way back... literally,» laughed the demon.  
Dean tried to stand up. He was weak, and he slipped time and time again, scrambling with his hands to find balance and slowly hold himself up. Something was forming in his mind. Something bleak and empty.  
«So... How does it feel when the memories come back home? How does it feel when you realize what you did to yourself all these years, containing you, handling you, submitting that rotten core of your soul? How does it feel.»  
Dean glared at him with a fierce scowl.  
«It doesn't.»  
«Really?» grinned the demon. «Then what is it you are sensing now? The cold, the weight. One would say you are ready to sink again, to follow.»  
Dean allowed himself a half smile, one tiny bitter thought in a sea of emptiness. He felt again the weight, the cold, the metal. The one thing he could do.  
«Yes, right. About that...»  
He felt the cold metal push under his chin.  
  


***

  
Crowley was chained in the dungeon, Dean was finally getting some rest and so was Sam. Still loking at the map, Kevin wondered if he could too. He still felt a strange vibe in the air. But there was little he could do, and all the work on the tablets had tired him so much he could barely stand up.  
Why not? Even if he slept, the bunker seemed to have enough alarm systems to wake a full nation. Yes, he probably should, at least to avoid getting crankier. Dean had been scary on that regard.  
Not that Kevin did not get it. All those years fighting, Hell and Purgatory, so many dead friends and relatives. At least Kavin did not have that many loved ones to lose. His world, in a way, had been already completely destroyed. Not that it sounded that good to say.  
He heard a furious banging on the door of the bunker.  
Without thinking, he hurried and opened. It was almost morning and it was raining outside. On the door stood a tall man in stained trenchcoat, with a lot of rips and holes. He looked like he had rolled in a ditch or slept under the trees. And he was breathing heavily, holding himself to a wall.  
«Castiel?» Kevin asked. «Have you been...»  
«Running?» Castiel answered. «Yes, I... I think I have been running.»  
Anybody else I have to haul in today, wondered Kevin as he  helped the angel inside. Castiel, meanwhile, was shooting glances in every direction nervously.  
«Where's Dean? I need to--»  
A loud bang echoed through the bunker in a deafening storm of echoes.  
Without a word, they all burst into a run towards the origin of the shot, Sam unsteadily joining them and barely managing not to crash into anything.  
The door to Dean's room was closed, but there was something leaking under it. Castiel, without saying a word, opened the door and went in. As the others followed him, they saw Dean lying on the floor, a gun near him and blood everywhere, even in a corner where someone had written in it: SRY SAMMY NOT UR FAULT.  
Sam was locked in his spot, trembling. Kevin too seemed to have frozen. Only Castiel seemed impervious to all that was happening. He held his hand to Dean's neck for what seemed an eternity, then turned to Sam and for the first time he was shaking.   
It was not fear or pain that led his voice, though, but resolve.  
«Get me Crowley,» he said.  
  


* * *

  
  


#  II

  
Dean laid on his side, blood still dripping from the two gaping wounds, in his throat and on the back of his skull. More had spattered all around, and other traces testified how destructive and fatal the shot had been.  
Kevin was standing by the entrance, scanning the room in disbelief. Sam, near him, moved slowly between the message his brother had left  on the floor and Castiel. Sam was sure he had heard the angel say something, but he could not grasp it. Maybe it had been the roar of the shot, maybe his sickness, but he felt like he had just become deaf. He saw Castiel's lips move again, with more emphasis. There was a name, maybe?  
Kevin tried to shake him.  
«... Crowley! Now, Sam!» Castiel shouted.  
Crowley? How could it have been Crowley? He was nearly human the last time he had seen him, and out of his senses. And did it matter, now? Why wasn't Castiel doing something?  
«What?» he answered, not sure he understood. «Cas, you have to help him! Don't just stand there!»  
Castiel glared at him, with a fury Sam had seen rarely in him and clenching his jaw so tight he expected to hear gnawing. He brought an arm around Dean's broken head and clutched him to his chest.  
«I... I can't. I just cannot.»  
«But... Why, what happened?» Sam pushed, his voice more and more scared.  
He noticed just then that Kevin was squinting at Castiel. The angel nodded back.  
«I'll explain later, Sam. I think Castiel needs our help.»  
Sam shook him away in anger.  
«Are you crazy? Help? Dean is... is...» he chocked.  
Castiel laid down Dean's body gently and stood up before Sam.  
«Dean is gone, Sam. There is nothing I can do for him. Not here.»  
Still shaking, Sam seemed to be regaining focus.  
«What can we do?»  
«Take me to Crowley and we'll see.»  
  
The torture room was dark. Crowley did not need much light to recognize it for what it was, though. He was an expert in the field, after all. Or had been. Things had been less clear in the last few hours. Had he really dreamt of feeling doubt about himself?  
No, it had not been doubt, he realized. He had felt, he shuddered at the thought, sick. And even tiptoeing on the line of that memory sent an uncomfortable chill down his spine.  
For sure, something had happened. Something he needed to investigate. As far away from the Winchesters as possible.  The problem was how. As he tried to move his arms to feel the chains and cuffs, pain shot throughout his body. He was aching everywhere. Again, something he hadn't felt in a long while.  
Memories started to come back from the haze of the last few hours. The demonic handcuffs, what a remarkable idea. On somebody else, of course. Dean hitting him, that had been a surprise. The Winchester boys got cocky now and then, that was a given, but something like that? He felt so amateur in letting them catch him that way. And that felt somehow even worse than that... was there a word for it? Humanity, he resolved to use. All that humanity. The very thought made Crowley feel almost  clean .  
Then there was Abaddon, hell knight in no shining armour and coming to save the day for as much as three seconds straight, time to send Sam Winchester against a wall, and then turning on him, on her king. Regime change? Really? The bitch has been away too long if she thought that trying to kill everything in her path would be enough to lead Hell itself.  
Fuck, it was going to be the Leviathans all over again. Apparently Abaddon hadn't got the memo about that. She had managed to get her arse handed by the Winchesters a couple of times, while he had sent both Dean and the bloody angel down to Purgatory. If only they had stayed there. Anyway, demons weren't made for gratitude.  
He realized his sight was still misty and one of his eyes hurt like hell. Yes, Dean bloody Winchester again, and not even the courtesy to ask for his the safe word. No wonder he felt like all kinds of crap right now. Though there was a worrying detail: he should have healed much quicker. Could it be the cuffs were stopping him? He had been able to summon Abaddon, after all. He was not sure he really wanted to find out.  
The door opened slowly, and three people entered very cautiously. Apparently they were not that sure he may have an ace in his sleeve. Better keep them believing that.  
Crowley looked at the trio as they got nearer and in the light: little brat-made-prophet Kevin he still wanted to choke, his hunter crush Sammy-boy, and that damn hassle of an angel Castiel. And where was Dean? Maybe they had chosen to keep Dean off him? Or would he be the threat for whatever they came to ask?   
The demon groaned. He did not like being in this kind of position. Leviathans all over again, fuck them all.  
Sam came forward first. He was shaking, looked sicker than he had in the church, and every muscle and fiber in him seemed tense to the breaking point. Castiel, who seemed to have passed a night in a ditch, was at his side, just one step behind. Kevin stood opposite, squaring Crowley with suspicion from out of the devil's trap around his chair; wise boy.  
«So, Sam... mate,» he started, «visting for a little chat? I hoped for something more intimate, but let's all share our feelings together. Maybe uncuffing me so I can get a little drink to get the stories flowing? I hadn't felt this thirsty in centuries.»  
Damn, he thought. That was not good, not at all. He resolved not to think of it. Neither of the angel. His brooding stare pointed at him made felt heavy, but there was something he hadn't noticed at the very beginning. Something very interesting.  
«Castiel,» he called.«I thought I'd recognize the smell... except. I. Did. Not. Why would that be? Cat clipped your wings, old partner?»  
He was surprised to get no reaction. What was up? If they were pissed off for anything, and they surely where, they would take it out on him in some way, being pushed and in a vantage position. But nothing seemed to come from them.  
He turned to Kevin and was about to say something, but stopped. He needed to understand the situation first. And he was frustrated by their silence. If they had come for something they could bloody well manage to speak, couldn't they?  
«So, boys?» he said. «Are you just here to watch poor old Crowley rot on the bloody chair or do you have anything kinkier in mind?»  
Sam frowned and nodded quickly to Castiel. The angel stepped in front of Crowley, forcing the demon to look up to him.  
«We need a Reaper,» he said, flatly.  
Jackpot.  
«And there it is!» Crowley grinned. «Why is it you get all civilised when you need something, you lot? You really think I am so willing to help you after the way you beat me up? Really?   
«Look at you, all cautious and wary. There's one fucking demon in the room tied and chained up like you really know what's fun for you and you can hardly summon the courage to come near. Except for trenchcoat baby here.  
«So, when is the other shoe dropping?» he pushed on. «Sammy-boy is the walking dead, prophet kid is trying not to shit in his pants and wings here is so out of juice  that one would take him for a bloody human. So what's the deal? No, wait, I've got one that is so much better. Where's the Dean?»  
He looked  with hostility at the angel, just to seem in control of things. He found it interesting that every time he had mentioned Castiel's strange state, Sam had looked more and more lost. So it must be about the big brother. Not that any of those  thugs  would move a finger without his accord.  
Castiel crouched and grabbed the demon by the jaw, glaring at him.  
«You don't need to know. The only thing is you need to know is how to call a Reaper. Here and now.»  
«Bloody Hell, wings,» Crowley snarled with some effort. «If your boyfriend got himself into Hell again and you cannot even get there, why the hell do you think I will help you in a suicide mission to get to him? You know how much the once-and-for-all death of Dean Winchester is worth? No, you don't.  
«So here's the deal:  you don't do squat for me, I don't do squat for you. As honest as a demon can get, what do you say?»  
«Fine.»  
Castiel rose and made to turn away.  
Then he turned back holding a blood stained handgun, and put the point in contact with Crowley's forehead. Even Sam and Kevin looked surprised.  
«What if you do something for us so we don't do something ugly to you?»  
And leave her alone, Crowley almost heard. But now he was sweating. Since when Castiel used guns? And the gun point weighted more than he expected on his skull.  
«Now don't get all emotional on me, Castiel. These things are dangerous in the hand of the inexperienced, so why don't you put it away? I'm a demon, remember?»  
«You won't mind if I pull the trigger, then. If you  really  are still one.»  
More sweat.  
«But you need me alive if you want to save your god-given charge, don't you?» he bluffed.  
Sure he could summon a reaper for them, and he did not need to know what had happened to pie boy. But what power did he really have? They had seen him get beaten up because of the handcuffs, and apparently still believed in that.   
And what was the situation in Hell? Difficult to say. As far as he was concerned Abaddon could have put up a whole new structure in the last few hours; he would not trust any of his lieutenants to keep his allegiance at the first whiff of change. Bastards, all of them.  
At least he could hope someone would sort out the guys as soon as they showed their ugly mugs around those parts. It would be ironic, after all the work he had done to ensure he would be the one to sort them out. Still, he wouldn't give in so easily, and after all what was the worse they could do to him?  
«I need you alive if you bring the Reaper in, otherwise you are just a demon. And I don't have patience or any desire for peace in my mind right now. There are other ways to get there, but you may get there before me, and I think you will not like it there anymore.»  
Crowley frowned. It all came back time and time again to his predicament and whatever it meant. And the risks he could  not  afford until tings would be back to normal.  
«Fine, fine,» he grunted. «You get a ticket for one, your problem finding the way out if anything happens, and only one can go. Got it?»  
«Of course,» Castiel said. «You think I would leave you alone with one of these two and take the other through Purgatory?»  
«One can always hope.»  
Nobody laughed. Not that he expected them to.  
«Oh, and I will need some blood,» he added. «Not Sammy's, of course; moose blood makes me feel all fuzzy and I hate that. And prophet blood? No, no, no. I'm afraid I will need some angel blood, Castiel my friend.»  
«You can have my blood, if you want,» Castiel answered.  
Crowley did not like his tone, but only made a note in his mind.  
«And who would be the lucky hero to go and save the day?» he asked, looking amused at Sam.  
«That would be me,» Castiel said.  
«Are you sure this time you will have Heaven's uptight bitch to bail you out? »  
Castiel pulled back the hammer.  
«You don't talk about them. Any of them,» he said.  
Now that was something new, Crowley thought. It seemed he would have a nice little chat with the boys as soon as the angel was gone.  
«Steady,  Butch . You miss this train and you go to Hogwarts another year.»  
For a second he believed Castiel would shoot. Time seemed to slow down as Crowley felt the tip of the gun shake just a little against his skin, then being lifted. He resumed breathing.  
Castiel uncocked the gun and brought it to his side.  
«Good boy,» Crowley sneered.  
For a few seconds nobody said a word. Crowley looked at the others one by one, then said:  
«So? Do we want to proceed or you have anything better to do? You lot really need daddy here even for sneezing...»  
Kevin stepped forward, keeping just shy of the Devil's trap.  
«I will take care of the ritual, guys. And I studied, so I can take care of him if he doesn't behave. You should armor up, Castiel.»  
«Yes,»  
commented Crowley, «and by the way, a dog ate your angel blade?»  
To Sam and Kevin's surprise, Castiel dropped the gun and punched Crowley in the face. The demon jerked in the chair and Sam came forward to pull Castiel back, nearly tripping them both in the process.  
«I thought this place was supposed to stand for free spech, damnit!»  
Crowley spat.  
But now he had his answer, as he watched the angel quickly shake the hand he had used to punch him. He had hurt himself. The angel had apparently really lost his wings. Crowley forced his most conciliatory smile.  
«Well, I had it coming anyway. So, if you will prepare yourself while I call an old friend of mine?»  
Sam let go of Castiel and whispered:  
«Come on, Cas, we need to talk.»  
As Castiel backed away, Crowley mouthed I got you, mate.  
  
To Sam's frustration, Castiel chose his weapons in complete silence. An it was very strange to see the angel wear so many on himself. A shotgun, two handguns, a knife. But it seemed not to be enough. He kept browsing through the armory weighing this, handling that, never stopping.  
He left the room and went to Dean's.  
Dean's body was still on the floor, wrapped in bedsheets. There were large stains near the head, and here and there the blood had started dripping through.  
Castiel stared at the sheets for a while, then went to the wall and took Dean's Purgatory blade off its mount. He balanced it and took a couple of swings. Then he held it in front of himself in silence.  
As he secured it to the holster on his back with the shotgun, he turned to find Sam standing still before the doorway.  
«What is it?»  
«I need to know what's happening, Cas,» Sam said, frowning. «I need to know why my brother's there and you did not heal him, I need to know why we are suddenly dealing with Crowley for passage, I need to know why you need all this stuff to go down there.»  
«Is that all?»  
«It would be a start,» Sam shrugged.  
«Ok,» Castiel said.  
He turned and sat on the bed, put down the shotgun and the blade, and drew a deep breath.  
«Do I need to, you know, come there...»  
«No, no, I... I just needed to think for a second before starting.»  
He gave one more quick glance at the body, which Sam's stare had carefully avoided since they entered the room, and began.  
«Sam, you remember when I said that I  could not  heal Dean?»  
«Yes, that I remember, but I don't understand why. You have been drained by something or what?»  
«Not exactly. Something happened when I went up to fix Heaven. Did you...» he hesitated, and words came out with a noticeable strain. «Did you see the lights in the sky?»  
«The Angels, you mean. Yes, we saw them. Falling. What was that too?»  
«It was a spell. Naomi,» he took another breath before continuing, «Naomi was right, Metatron had lied to me and wanted to bar all Angels from Heaven.  That  was what you saw.»  
Sam seemed lost for a moment as he took in all the implications.  
«But how...»  
«The Angel trials, they never existed. Metatron was gathering ingredients. And the last one... the last one was my grace.»  
«What do you mean?» Sam asked, but his face showed he had already realized.  
«The Angels. I'm not one of them, not anymore.»  
Sam passed his hands in his hair and glanced around as he processed the notion.  
«So... all Angels are what, human now?»  
«No, that's only me. The others are only barred from Heaven, and now are forced to walk the Earth, as far as I know. It's entirely possible that right now Purgatory is safer than Earth for me.»  
Castiel stood up and made for the door. He stopped and looked perplexed at Sam, still in the way.  
«Sorry, Cas, it's just...» Sam gestured him to stop. «Are you sure you can do this? This is not just a vessel anymore, it's... It's you. You get tired, you get hurt, and you cannot simply repair yourself. You will need time to adapt.»  
«I need to go now, Sam. Remember: time passes faster in Hell, and Dean's there.»  
«I know, Cas, I know. But we don't get anything if you get killed down there, and we don't even know if there's anything else that will happen. I mean, what if you... become Jimmy Novak again all of a sudden?»  
Castiel smiled, but it was a smile full of regrets.  
«Jimmy has not been with me for a long time. He is... at peace, I think.»  
Sam shook his head.  
«Look, Cas, that was just an example. You don't know nothing of this, we don't know either, and to be honest you are not exactly used to the real limits of a human body. You will fall apart in a minute if you don't pace yourself.»  
«There is no one that can take my place, Sam.»  
«Why not me?» Sam pushed. «I've been there already, I know how the place works for a human, both places actually, I--»  
«Sam!» Castiel interrupted him.  
«What?»  
Castiel stared at him and Sam had the horrible sensation he had every time someone pitied him.  
«I could fall apart, sure, but you are already breaking. What the trials are doing to you is,»  
he stopped and looked away for a second, «I felt an echo of it, before, when I was still... well, me. It's something so violent I am amazed that you survived so long, maybe because you were born to be a special vessel. Anyway, it's not done with you. You need to rest.»  
«And how will we know if you are alive?»  
Castiel picked up his weapons and re-holstered them.  
«You won't.»  
They stood in awkward silence for a while, then Sam let Castiel pass.  
«Thanks, Sam,» he said as he walked into the corridor. «Do me a favor. Pray while I'm gone.»  
  
Sam watched with some awe, and not a little worry, as Kevin performed the ritual to summon the reaper. If Crowley was right, it would be someone he could trust, or at least scared enough of him to cooperate.  
Speaking of scared, there was something unsettling in seeing Kevin deal with spells with such ease. Had it been that long since they had met a panicked student compelled to hold on to a tablet bearing the Word of God? The kid had lost a lot in time, and yet he was calm and in control where even he and Dean had struggled so much.  
For a second he thought of Krissy and the other kids, and Garth, and Kevin again. He wondered what that generation could do with the bunker and its knowledge, and experienced hunters to guide them. Maybe Dean had a point when he said the tide could be turned? Maybe one day this would just be another kind of wilderness, conquered and under control. Maybe. The bloodstained sheets seemed a harsh a testament to their strength.  
The room went cold. The reaper was coming.  
It had the appearance of a short black woman and looked not pleased at all, locked in its circle.  
«Crowley,» she said. «Why I am not  that  surprised?»  
«Please, Tara,» Crowley answered, «you cannot hold  this  against me. As you can see,» he shook the chains, «I'm not exactly acting of my own volition.»  
She turned around and glared at the others.  
«Yes, it's those clowns you should be pissed off at. We still friends?»  
«Did he really say that word?» she asked no one in particular.  
Kevin grinned.  
«I like this one.»  
Sam stepped forward.  
«We need your help. Crowley said you could bring one of us to Purgatory.»  
The reaper looked at him carefully, first with suspicion, then with curiosity.  
«Well, if you wait a couple of weeks someone could do that for free.»  
«Oh... Well, no, thanks but no thanks,» said Sam, more embarrassed than scared. «I mean, it's not for me, it's for him.»  
He pointed at Castiel, who seemed focus on something else entirely, like he was already on the other side.  
The reaper checked him out carefully, like she had done with Sam earlier, only with much more attention.  
«I see,» she said, intrigued, then she stopped. «No, sorry, I must have mistaken you for someone else.»  
Sam sighed in relief. He was not sure it was a good idea to let Crowley in on Castiel's secret, for the time being. Unless of course he had found out already.  
«Are you sure,» the Reaper continued, «you are up to this? Purgatory is a pretty scary place, and I don't do round trips. Once you are  there, you are on your own. I'm not going against anything you will find there.»  
«I am fully aware of that,» Castiel said, flatly. «And... Yes. Sam? Can we talk for a second?»  
Sam nodded and followed him to a corner.  
«While I'm down there, take Dean's body and put it in a safe place. I don't want to use that kind of magic inside this bunker. It doesn't seem safe enough.»  
«The bunker seems pretty solid,» said Sam, slightly puzzled.  
«I meant for Dean. I don't think we can try this twice if it doesn't work.»  
«Ok, sure. Anything else?»  
«No, thanks. I... I think I am ready.»  
Sam tried to read Castiel's face. Where once there were very few, basic emotions, now many different and contrasting feelings seemed to stream throuhg each other. For all his efforts, he could not even imagine what was really going through Castiel's head in that moment.  
«Not as easy as when you were an angel, right?»  
«Very different. I'm not sure I still grasp it fully,» Castiel answered, looking around in discomfort. «Will you keep a close watch on Crowley until I'm back?»  
«Of course, buddy. Besides, whatever happened in the church, it is already fading away.»  
«Yes. I am sorry you went through all that for nothing, Sam.»  
«Well, we know that it works now, don't we?» Sam risked a smile.  
«Right, we do.»  
Sam hesitated for a second before speaking again. It was an ugly question, and the wrong time to ask it, but he had left it lingering in his head for too long.  
«Cas,» he said with some effort, «why are you doing this?»  
«God once sent a guardian angel to watch over Dean. And when he fell against Lucifer and Michael, God called him back. I still like to think it meant something.»  
«But you are not that, you said it yourself. Not anymore.»  
«Not what?»  
«A guardian angel.»  
Castiel stared hard at him, and Sam noticed his feature tensing, as if holding back a great rage. It lasted just a moment, then he went back to a more usual, brooding self.  
«I am no longer an angel, Sam,» he said. «That much is true.»  
Then he turned and walked to the reaper, breaking the circle to let her out. She gave him a cold smile.  
«So, can anyone show us out?» she said. «There are too many protections here, and I'm already getting claustrophobic.»  
«Sure, just follow me,» said Kevin.  
Sam watched from the corner, still trying to parse through what Castiel told him. And other things. Some sort of pattern emerging. An idea had nearly formed in his mind when Crowley's voice shook the thought away from him.  
«Castiel!» Crowley called.  
The angel turned.  
«Would you do me a favor, for old times sake and that thing we had going between us?»  
the demon asked. «When you go down there, and you see you have some bullets or anything else left, would you leave a mess on my behalf? Just in case someone down there got any ideas... Plus, well... the devil you know and all that. Would you do that for me, love?»  
For a split second Sam would have sworn Castiel showed a hint of a tense smile. That was another new thing. He knew Castiel had, on occasion, tried to teach himself humour and other human reactions, but then again Crowley's trademark snark was never supposed to be funny.  Then it dawned on him. It was not tension. It was bitterness. Old times sake, Crowley had said. Sam wondered if Castiel's conscience worked differently, now.   
Too bad there was no time for asking more questions. And he had a brother to bury, even if just temporarily. That was one more strange thought. They had grown so used to moving between... well, worlds, that even death did not seem such a terrifying  force , after the initial shock. In a way, it felt as if  the more human Castiel grew, the more they outgrew being human .  
For an instant the craziest idea popped into his mind. That Crowley, half-cured Crowley specifically, may be part of the answer to that. If he would hang on to what little humanity could be temporarily restored to him. Not likely, but maybe worth a  try .  
He gave one last look at the demon, then followed the others out of the dungeon.  
  
To Castiel the spell, the gate opening, the guys watching, it all passed in a bit of a haze. Some things had been an integral part of his nature, and that had allowed him to focus on the rest. But now there was something almost overwhelming in seeing the world around him change in that way, and it made it hard to concentrate on anything. He wondered how it must have been for the Winchesters to grow human and get deeper and deeper in this unstable kind of reality. Part of him wondered if he would be able to withstand it. Just how much capacity for the supernatural had a human being?  
The light grew stronger and the reaper took him through the portal. Into the dreadfully familiar landscape of Purgatory. The forest of death, so virgin and untouched, and primal and brutal. He could smell death with an intensity he had never perceived as an angel.  
He turned just in time to see the reaper gesture goodbye and disappear. He had known, though he had expected her to stick around a few seconds more. He was alone, now.  
He drew the Purgatory blade and looked around. It was the first time he had really stopped since waking up from the Fall.   
He could hear his own heartbeat, he could feel his own chest rising and falling differently as he tried to find the right breathing rhythm. He could feel every single tendon and muscle tense and release, and how even a simple motion created a whole chain of smaller movements and stirrings.  
It was so utterly different from being in a vessel it almost felt as he had always driven a car and was now travelling on foot. And while his true form could wreak great havoc on the little human world, it had never felt as physically real as when he had hit Crowley earlier. The world, too, seemed much more solid now that he could not simply reappear anywhere and that every step required a tiny conscious act against the soil. He was surprised that he had not noticed any of that before.  
His senses were so overwhelmed with it all that he was only mildly surprised when the tip of an arrow softly touched the back of his neck out of nowhere. His muscles tensed in anticipation of turning to fight that they almost spasmed when he forced himself to resist the impulse.  
«Nice trenchcoat, baby,» a woman's voice said.  


* * *

  
  


#  III

  
The forest of Purgatory was silent.  
There were only two persons in the clearing. One was well armed and wore a dirty white trenchcoat, the other was a crossbow wielding woman with long dark hair.  
Castiel did not move and breathed as slow as possible. The pressure of the arrow tip on the back of his neck was unnerving.  
«A shotgun...» the woman said from behind him, amused. «Haven't seen one in a long time.»  
«I didn't see you--» Castiel started.  
«And I didn't tell you to speak,» she interrupted, and kicked low, sending him to the  ground .  
She walked over him, keeping the crossbow aimed at his face.  
«You didn't look up,» she said, gesturing towards the trees. «Sloppy, for someone so well armed.»  
«What are you?» Castiel asked.  
«A monster, of course,» she laughed. «We're all monster here. Well, except for you.»  
«How...?»  
«The smell. I could have sniffed you a mile away. Though...» she added with a sudden suspicious glance.  
«What?» said Castiel, not really comfortable in his position.  
«Nothing,» she cut, going back to a more cheerful expression, «it's just I haven't seen...  other things  in a while.»  
Castiel realized he needed to keep her talking. His perception had cleared, and his muscles at last felt reactive enough, but he would have only one chance, and he needed to prepare his move well.  
«Are you a leviathan?»  
«A Leviathan?» she laughed. «If I was a leviathan I would have bit off your head right there and then.»  
For all her banter and laughing, though, her eyes were continuously throwing sideways glances, her head turning just enough to pick up a few more sounds. Castiel wondered if he would be able to reach his knife and strike. Suddenly wearing a trenchcoat did not seem like a good idea. Still, he had to try.  
But just as his wrist tensed to spring into motion, she dropped down, throwing away the crossbow and immobilizing him completely.  
«Bad baby, bad,» she grinned. «You are used to be the dangerous one in a fight, aren't you?»  
«What are you going to do now? Kill me?»  
She held his head down and came down to speak in his ear.  
«What I  want  to do is fuck your brains out, bite and cut you until you pass out screaming, then rip out your spine and suck the marrow out of it. Maybe a  few other naughty things but you won't exactly notice by then.»  
She was breathing heavily in his ear, and enjoying all of it. He was still thinking hard of how to turn the  tables. That is, if there was any chance to do it.  
«Now,» she added, «out of curiosity, what's your name? I like to know what I am eating.»  
«Jimmy,» he thought quickly, feeling for some reason that she shouldn't know his true name. «It's Jimmy.»  
«Ok, "Jimmy",» she said, not sounding really convinced of the name, as she stroke his side with her free hand, «the pleasure is all mine...»  
And just with that she jumped up, leaving him completely free and laughing heartily. That laugh thing was starting to get on his nerves. He was thrown so much off his game, though, that the idea of attacking had completely left his mind.  
«You really are a big baby,  a big damn baby in a trenchcoat ,»  
she said, recovering the crossbow and pointing it at him.  
«So... You don't want to eat me?» he asked, more suspicious than relieved.  
«Oh, that I really would love, and to be honest at the moment I'm having a bit of a fantasy about how your best cut tastes,»  
she said, licking her fangs. «But no, I don't do something just because I'd like it. I mean... I'm civilized.»  
He didn't look convinced. And he wasn't. He had seen demons far more sane than that, come think of it. She seemed to acknowledge it, and lowered the crossbow.  
«Look, Jim,»  
she said with a very odd expression of pity, «I am a monster, not  a ... well, you get it now, don't you?»  
The fact of being able to move and not having a weapon pointed at his head somehow made him just a bit more optimistic. He would have to watch his back with this one, no doubt, but for the moment, maybe...  
«Yes, I think I do,» he said flatly.  
He rose slowly and gestured towards his back. She nodded, and he took the Purgatory blade in his hands.  
«Are you sure you are not gonna hurt yourself with that?» she mocked him.  
He grunted.  
And just then, a black swirl swooshed in and crashed to the ground, taking a human form between Castiel and the girl, roaring in his face with too many teeth.  
The girl jumped backwards to put some distance between her and the leviathan. But by the time she had lifted her crossbow, their attacker was flying backwards, its chest torn apart by a swift sweep of Castiel's blade.  
The leviathan landed heavily, its face now human and snarling at Castiel, who was already over him for the kill. As soon as its stare fixed on Castiel, though, the leviathan hesitated, fear taking over his face for an instant, and that was more than enough for Castiel to  plant his blade through its neck and behead him as its limbs twitched in a final attempt at resistance.  
«What the...» the girl began in disbelief.  
«We better run,» said Castiel, breathing just a little bit heavier.  
«Good idea. This way, I know a place!»  
She broke in a run so fast that Castiel feared he would not be able to keep up with. He cursed his new humanity, so limited. It had been something, though, when he had hit the leviathan. It had to be that adrenaline thing Sam and Dean went about on occasion.   
He pushed forward, not wanting the girl's surprise to fade too quickly.  
Luckily, soon enough she slowed down, though she was still checking out all around them every second.  
«So, Jimmy, it seems I just had lucky shot...»  
the girl said as they kept walking. «I suppose you were what? A soldier?»  
«Something like that,» Castiel nodded, still throwing the odd glance left and right himself.  
«And you are here why, exactly?»  
Castiel nearly tripped. He didn't expect that question.  
«What do you mean?»  
«I told you I noticed,» she explained. «You should not be here. You are not a monster. You are... something else. My guess is human, but what do I know, haven't seen one in a long time. And you have firearms, that cannot come from here. Oh, yes, and that thing you did earlier too.»  
«You did not want me to stop it?»  
«No, that's perfectly fine... and quite impressive, by the way,» she said licking her lips. But you scared him.»  
«I did?»  
«Yes, and nobody and nothing scares a leviathan. Well, actually scare wasn't the right word, but for some reason he recognized you and was distracted. Otherwise you would have been in much more trouble. So how comes a random human springs up in the middle of Purgatory and the leviathans, of all, take pause?»  
She stopped and turned to look at him in the eyes.  
«And you are not gonna tell me it's that cute-as-a-button little face.»  
«I don't know,» he said, and he wasn't completely insincere, he was as surprised as she was. «It's not like I wasn't scared myself.»  
The forest was completely still around them. Which wasn't that strange, after all. Purgatory had no place for anything other than monsters. It was a infnite, sprawling display of base impulses: hunger, aggression, fear. And everyone for himself, always. Except for that one time.  
One time only, ever, he thought.   
Then it just dawned on him.   
She was sticking out her tongue with a devilish smile.  
Ha shrugged.  
«This is a trap,» he said, resigned.  
A dozen people came out of the wilderness around them. They didn't seem overly aggressive, but after all they did not need to. He would be an easy prey. Maybe he could bring down a few before they dragged him down, but that too was optimistic. He had surprise going for him with the leviathan, who expected him to try and run. But this...  
He recognized some of the enemies: a couple of vampires, a wendigo and maybe a kitsune. His senses felt dulled as he tried to summon his ability to discern the others over their human appearance. He found no way, and it had always come natural.  
He took a defensive pose.  
«Courageous,» the girl said, «and a bit stupid. If I wanted to kill you I would have done it when we met. These are my friends,»  
she smiled.  
«Friends?» said Castiel looking around, not at all convinced.  
«Sure, friends. Broadly speaking, ok,» she smiled.  
All that smiling was getting on his nerves again.   
«You really do enjoy this place?» he asked.  
«Of course I enjoy it. Why shouldn't I?»  
«It's a hunting ground. Constantly. It's... inhuman,» he said, and there was something in it that felt odd, that he would never had said it before the fall.  
«Am I?» she said as she walked towards him. «Human is something you are, and that's why you should not be here.»  
She stopped just one step away from him, her chest just touching the blade he held in defense. She winked at him.  
«This is a place for monsters, and I'm one,  big baby ,» she continued as she gently pushed away the blade with one hand. « This  is home, this is a place where I belong, not... above, with you people. Do you have any idea how it is to try and fit in a whole world where you are not even supposed to exist?»  
«I have an idea of how it feels.»  
Some grumbling was starting among the other monsters, but she shut them down with a gesture.  
«You know, there is one reason why I havent killed you when I could.»  
«You would have?»  
«Without a second thought. Monster, remember?» she said pointing at her own body.  
«Why, then?» he asked, getting angrier about all her theatre.  
She stepped back, and hopped around a bit, as if mimicking a dancer. Castiel wondered if she was provoking him on purpose.  
Then she sat down in the leaves, with a big grin on here face. She showed him were to seat, in front of her, then called the other monster to do the same. A few sat down, others relaxed and leaned on the nearby trees, a couple kept watching around.  
«Come on, campfire time!» she laughed, but they kept their places.  
Castiel looked at her with expectation, wondering where all this was going.  
«You know, there has been some sort of tale going around this place for more or less a year now,»  
she began. «Everyone here watches his back and runs, runs all day then eviscerates someone and begins running again. It gets to the point where you don't feel the tiredness anymore, you just drop down where you do, because any time is the wrong time to sleep. Some, higher on the food chain, just go on a permanent rampage and scare the others into this creazy run.  
«Then, one day, there's this small, weird band going around. Three guys sticking together and taking on everything that gets in their path. Very efficiently. They cut a swathe straight through the forest to some place they need to go to. Funny thing is, they have very few of us on their back because there's something worse.»  
«Let me guess...» Castiel interrupted her, not sure whether this was going to end up well or not. «Leviathans?»  
«Good baby, good baby,» she clapped. «Yes, the leviathans. And they don't want anything else than catching them, don't know why. And even if they run a lot, our three guys also kill a lot. And they basically become a sort of legend because mostly anyone who met them was cut to pieces. And you know what's awesome about that?»  
Castiel did not answer. He had the most foreboding feeling that he would be in even more serious trouble in a minute.  
«You are the worst audience ever,»  
she complained mockingly. «All of you, guys!»  
He noticed that, even if nobody seemed to care that much, for some reason they respected her. Nobody broke ranks or resumed their threatening stance  towards him. Wihch was of little comfort if the tale was going to hit where he suspected.  
«Anyway,» the girl continued, «the thing is that they came from  outside . Most of them, actually. The team was a vampire, a human and, wait for it, an angel! And did the leviathans want a piece of him. Basically anything that got even by accident near to the angel was eaten.  
«Save for those two. And that's awesome why? Because one was a human, like you. The smallest, weakest thing you could imagine, and he survived. I don't know if it's true, but they say he actually went hunting through Purgatory to find the angel. Must have been in love or something to do a thing that crazy, don't you think?»  
Castiel didn't know what to say to that, but before he could find an answer someone else got in.  
« They  say?» came a deep, roaring voice from far behind Castiel. He did not dare looking.  
«Yes,  they ,» the girl sneered. «But you know what the best thing is, big baby? Mmm?»  
Castiel shook his head warily.  
«The greatest thing is that I got this story from, drumroll... the vampire himself! How cool is that?»  
«Actually we are  sweating profusely,» he replied without thinking.  
The girl blew raspberry.  
«But here's one thing that doesn't fit,» the girl said, squinting at him and taking a more ominous tone. «The vampire told me to stay on the lookout for someone, just in case. It may sound familiar to you: black hair, blue eyes, trenchcoat. Babyface, even with a beard. But the thing is, he was an angel.»  
Castiel's muscles tensed, ready to jump off and try to run. He didn't have much of a chance, but there was no other option. The girl didn't seem to notice.  
«Who are you really, "Jimmy"?»  
Castiel sprang on his feet and turned, blade in hand and ready to run and kill, then stopped.  
A familiar face, the first smile to have some warmth in that place. Standing right in front of him, a few steps away, unarmed.  
«Hi Castiel,» said Benny.  «I think you have a story to tell me .»  
  


***

  
Benny and Castiel sat down under a massive rock. The girl was standing on the top, controlling the area, while the other monsters had left about some murderous business of theirs.  
Benny hadn't changed a bit, as far as looks went. The clothes he whore were very similar to those Castiel had seen on him on their first venture through Purgatory. At the same time, he seemed to command a remarkable and motley crew of creatures. Something very unusual anywhere, and almost impossible to accept in the blood stained madness of Purgatory.  
Still, for some reason, it seemed it was Ben's time to make questions, with a deep and inquisitive stare that made Castiel uncomfortable.  
«You know,» said Benny, «when I returned here I expected to run into you pretty soon.»  
«I have been away for a while, too.»  
Benny became pensive. He seemed to be the only one in the whole bunch not looking over his shoulders all the time. The more Castiel looked at him, the more he realized he only looked the same.  
«I was thinking of something they told me about,» Benny said. «A whole bunch of angels popping up here and raising all kinds of hell for some reason. Didn't make much of it when they told me, but... was that you?»  
«In a manner of speaking,» Castiel answered   
«I thought you were dead, honestly. Which was too bad because there are still a lot of damn leviathans around, and I could use something to distract them.»  
Castiel gave him a stern look.  
«No, no, don't worry,» Benny laughed heartily. «I have my guys, my little band. Took one here, one there, told them the story... we left some trail, you know? And managed to make a couple of them stay, then ranks got bigger and here we are.  
«We sort of make camp here or there for a while, defend until there's too many attacks and then we move again. As long as we are tight it's much easier than normal. You can almost breathe.»  
«You are their leader?»  
Benny shook his head. He picked up a few small stones and threw one in the leaves in front of himself.  
«No, and I don't really want to. Bosses, thugs, that's how vampires did stuff, and I have no love for it. But I guess I have a reputation, and they respect that, so they'll ask and they'll listen. Mostly.»  
He threw two more stones. Every time he was about to say something but stopped just before. Castiel watched one more stone fly, knowing what was coming. He thought he may as well calling it.  
«What about Dean?» he said.  
«Good question. I was almost there myself. If you've been up there you know more than me, I suppose.»  
«It... it took a while to get back together.»  
«You made it hard for him, you know? Staying here and all that. I think it screwed him up a bit.»  
Castiel did not answer. It was a difficult matter at best, and it gained more significance in the light of this new condition he was in. Everything felt so real, so visceral, compared to his angelic self. that many things were easier to understand. Still, he had had his reasons at the time.  
«It wasn't an easy decision. I had a lot on my hands.»  
«Like?»  
«Like blood,» Castiel answered.  
Nobody said anything for minutes. Benny launched stones and picked up new ones. Castiel did not really want to talk, but he felt he could not simply walk away. He was coming to realize how limited was a human body, and wondered how long he would last alone. The leviathan could have been more careless, or have another with him. And if only the girl had not been...  
«What's her name?» he asked.  
«Good old Tera,» said Benny, smiling. «Older than me, probably not older than you but I don't think she even cares. Or knows. She has the mind of a kid. A really messed up kid.»  
«Is she dangerous?»  
«Probably more than anyone else in this bunch. Me included,»  
the vampire laughed. «I only have a name going for me. And you, now. Ready to strike the fear of God into anything that comes our way. Literally,»  
he laughed again. «Sorry, the guys here are lousy at jokes; I'm picking up.»  
«If only,» said Castiel, almost to himself.  
«Look, I don't want to get into your business or anything,» Benny said, apparently sincere in his embarrassment, «but I have a few guys here and I feel responsible for our little pack. I need to know why you are here.»  
Yes, you do, thought Castiel. He sighed.  
«For Dean.»  
«What do you mean?» Benny asked, confused. «He or his brother got trapped in here again?»  
There was a bitterness in his voice the forced smile could not hide, and the thousand mile stare only reinforced.  
«No, not here,» Castiel answered, grimly. «Dean is in Hell.»  
Benny turned, surprised and, unexpected to Castiel, even hurt. He was trying to ask more, but nothing came.  
«How?»  
«It was my fault. I lost my grace, and that lost him. It was my fault and that's why I am going there to save him.»  
Benny nodded and rose. Again, that bitter smile.  
«Yeah, right,» he said and Castiel wondered if he was really listening or if something else was going in his mind. «And I am coming with you.»  
Castiel looked at him, completely lost.  
«Why?»  
he asked «I know what you did for Dean, why you are here now... so why should you help him?»  
This time the answer was a hearty laugh.  
«Because we're brothers... in a way. Because this is what a good man does. You don't help someone to get the balance even and walk away. The more you do for each other, the more you do with each other, the stronger the bond. Because you realize how stronger you are united. And you should know. Why would Dean even come for you, otherwise?»  
Castiel had no good answer for that.  
«Just why are you really here, man?» the vampire pushed.  
Castiel rose, too.  
«I was his guardian angel,» he said, and he himself heard the words like a broken record.  
«Yeah, you were. So what's this all about, now?»  
Benny asked.  
Castiel realized he had no good answer for that, either. He was surprised when Benny turned and put his hand on Castiel's shoulders. There was a measure of enthusiasm in his eyes.  
«You know, man?» he said. «Don't worry about this, as long as you are really in for it, it will work. You'll figure out the rest when time comes,»  
he added with a big wide grin.  
«You think we can do it?» Castiel asked stiffly, feeling somehow concerned for that direct contact.  
«With some help... who knows? Tera!» he called.  
The girl jumped off the rock and landed at their side.  
«Remember how many times I told you to go to Hell, beauty?» Benny joked.  
«It was about time,» she said licking her teeth.  
  


* * *

  
  


#  IV

  
Castiel, Tera and Benny emerged from the passage to look at the smoking desolation of Hell: the barren, devastated landscape of a war zone.  
«Hell has taken a new shape,» said Castiel.  
He realized he was scared. He had been to Hell and back, in the past, but always clad in angelic powers. Now, in this all too sensitive shell, he wondered if he went too far. Then again, it was his responsibility. Not his fault, but his responsibility still. Look at you, he thought, cleaning up Father's mess.   
He tried to feel shame for wording that thought, but he could not. Maybe that was part of being human? The instinct for put everything into question, seeing the potential for a change in everything no matter how sacred. Yes, for all they worshipped and searched, they were eager to throw down those very same idols at a moment's notice.  
He shuddered in realizing how far he felt from his Father's grace.  
«What do you think, man?» Benny asked.  
«New ownership,» he answered, dryly. «They've redecorated.»  
Of the three, only Tera seemed to enjoy the view. Or, more properly, she was nearly bursting out of her clothes with hunger and excitement. She wasn't scanning the place for incoming threats, she was stalking the grounds in search of a prey.  
«You be careful, kid,» said Benny. «This is not Purgatory. These here may not be leviathans, but they are organized and fight as groups, much like we do out there. Don't be overconfident.»  
«This is so much my own element, Benny,» she squealed, mocking them. «I love my little home above, I really do, but there is so much to tear down here. They... they have order, places... defined things!»   
She laughed. From Benny's expression, Castiel knew handling Tera mustn't always be a thrill. She was childlike and monstruous, a messy ball of energy that at could turn into a deadly and focused predator at a moment's notice. He wondered if she could really be on anyone's side.  
«I want to break it down,» she was nearly singing, «make them run in panic, hunt them, and then...»  she licked her teeth and swayed her hips .  
Castiel threw a glance at Benny.  
«Are you sure we can trust...» he said, pointing at her with his head.  
«I'm not sure  you  can trust her. But I am the one who knows the way back; she forgets this stuff in a second. So she needs  me , at least.»  
«I'm not sure she cares that much about going back,» said Castiel, worried.  
«Then let's move before she gets any idea,» Benny grinned.  
Tera hopped to their side, still chanting.  
«Where do we start? Where do we start?» she squealed.  
Castiel resigned to Tera's good spirits and take a quick look at the landscape.  
It didn't take long to find the spot. After all, Hell was a realm of the soul, so distances did not have the same meanings as in geographical places.  In a way, in Hell you were always near what you were looking for, if you knew really well what that was . And he knew.  
Then again, it wouldn't have been Hell if the path to any place wasn't immersed in the suffering of someone, and that meant they would have to walk through something very ugly. Which, by the looks of it, was standing right in front of them.  
«That building,» he said.  
«The one with a big red cross?» asked Benny.  
«Yes,» he answered grimly.  
«Big red  burning  cross?» added Benny.  
«Is there is a soul in the flames?» giggled Tera.  
Castiel studied the building, trying to assess its points of strength, how many demons could lie in there and how to overcome them with his little band. Again he felt his senses incredibly dull, so slow  to detect signs and put them together.   
And he still found weird how Tera seemed energized by all that, even for a monster.  
«It's a place for torture, isn't it?» asked Benny.  
«Why do you think that?» said Castiel.  
«I see the irony. They used a hospital.»  
Castiel nodded. For some reason, being aware of that made him feel angry. Angrier than usual. He tightened the grip on his blade. Benny put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.  
«You're gonna do fine, man, even without the wings. Damn,» he laughed, «those gave us more trouble than help some times, didn't they?»  
As they strode off towards the building, Benny called Tera:  
«From now on you follow his lead, got it, girl?»  
«Got it, boss,» she cheered as she jumped after them.  
  
As they came before the wide doors of the hospital, Castiel realized he had no idea what they would find inside. He had looked, thought and calculated, but the best he could come up with was a vague estimate. Come think of it, all he actually knew was that there would be demons inside. Very useful, he thought.  
Benny came at his side and gave him a far too meaningful look. Apparently, he also wasn't as good as he hoped in disguising his doubts.   
«Should we knock?» the vampire asked, baring his fangs.  
Castiel looked again at the walls and the door. He pushed the handles just a bit to see if they were blocked. They weren't.  
«Knock it down , maybe,» he said, gripping the blade with two hands.  
Benny and Tera became completely still for a few seconds, then sprung into action.  
The vampire smashed into the doors with his side  and the girl sweeped after him into the opening before they could even see what was inside. As Castiel pushed inside himself, he narrowly dodged a limb Tera had carelessly disposed of from the two demons near the entrance.  
It was a blur. Someone lunged at him. Something missing an arm, his eyesight registered as the demon flew toward him.   
It was his warrior instinct driving. As he consciously registered the threat entering his reach, his arms had the blade already in the path of the demon, swinging high to low sideways to cut and smash him down where he would not block Castiel's path.   
He barely registered the growl as he stepped over and changed hands, taking the weapon with his right arm as a spear and burying it in the chest of a second enemy who tried to reach him in the wake of the first. As the demon fell down, the blade was stuck in his chest. Castiel grunted, and ripped his upper body in half to free it. He felt a pang of pain in his muscles.  
Then something grabbed him from behind. A strong grasp and the stench of corruption and ashes. He fell to the ground, and saw three burnt creatures coming at him running low over the wooden floor. The blade rolled to his side, just out of his reach, and as he opened his mouth to call Benny, a burnt hand covered it, and pushed, and he could breathe no more.  
And then, just as his eyes went wide, the creature caught fire. Part of his brain exhulted in relief, but just then the horrific pain of flames engulfing his body hit him.    
As the creature was blasted away, he felt the heat rise, the skin starting to swell, and his limbs thrashing almost out of his control. He tried to roll and nearly pushed a arm out of his socket.   
And then everything went black as something wide landed on him. Still not breathing, he felt blows raining on him, hard and fast and relentless. And then stopped again.  
He breathed, at last. Hoarsely, and with effort, but he managed. His whole body still ached and his skin felt like it was going to split open at a moment's notice. But he could feel what was laying on him, now: some kind of cloth, heavy cloth his brain said.   
In a rush, light came back and as his eyes adjusted, he saw Benny with a wide grin holding a heavy blanket. He must have looked at the vampire in confusion, because Benny seemed to find something fun in him.  
«Sorry about the beating, man. Wouldn't want you to think I've gone soft,» he laughed.  
Benny extended an arm and helped him to get back on his feet. Castiel was still feeling shaky.  
«Two things, my friend,» said Benny. «Point one: no wings means you are only as strong as your body. Push it all the way all the time and you break, or you stumble. Not sure which one is the worst, when you fight these  things.  
«Point two, and I really love this: seems you are untouchable for some of the things here. Me and Tera tore down a few of them and there was not a single flame. Must be because you are... real, I guess.»  
«Maybe,» Castiel said, not really convinced.  
He looked at the scene. They really had left their mark. He could see five demons down, their traces still burnt into the floor. And a number of those corpselike things; he could not say what they were, and that unnerved him, since once he could by instinct tell the nature of everything he encountered. His frustration grew, even more at the thought that Benny had saved him from that attack.   
«They don't really run,»  
said Benny. «They basically crawl very fast.»  
«Crawlies,»  
Castiel thought aloud. «Someone has a very bad sense of humor.»  
«Didn't know you had any to judge,» said Benny, slightly surprised.  
Castiel realized he was surprised himself. It was one of those things he thought would always be alien to him. He could not find much use for it, though.  And there was something he could not get his head around in how he reacted to these things.   
«You should not worry about that,» said Benny, reading him. «I don't know what you really were... before. But I think you are connecting to this beautiful thing,»  
he tapped his skull. «It's sending stuff through your mind, all kinds of things to tell you about pain, hunger, tension. You are on drugs for the first time, mate. Strong drugs, but you'll get used to it.»  
Castiel was not really convinced, there were too many new things at once, far more than he expected. He wondered if all humans felt like flying through a snowstorm that often.   
He scanned the room. A big hall with wooden planks floor and old hospital beds everywhere, some used, some clean. No one in them at the moment. Where was Tera? She was standing up just then from behind one of the beds with something hanging from her mouth, dripping blood. She made a grotesque smile and gulped down, waving at them like nothing happened.  
There were stairs reaching into the upper floors, but they did not see or hear anybody coming, despite all the commotion.  
«You think they're chicken?» asked Benny.  
«No, it doesn't work like that,» Castiel answered.  
He checked the door at the other end of the room. It budged just slightly, and even barely open it let in a stench of ashes and rain. Of course. He turned to Benny.  
«This is a gate.»  
Benny looked at him, puzzled. To show what he meant, Castiel opened the double doors.  
  
On the other side the sky was darker, the storm clouds heavier, and the front lines scarred by trenches. The whistling of the wind carried with it moans and screams of tortured souls.   
Not unlike Crowley's reconstruction, the battlefield was not just a metaphor or an oppressive backdrop, but made for an instrument of torture in itself. And what better environment for suffering?  
Cheval de frises were everywhere, not as barriers against an invasion but as torture racks for the unlucky fallen. Scores of people, scattered here and there, were tied to them with barbed wire. Most alone, some together so they could watch each other's torment.  
Now and then a light shone far away, brief and pale, and a soul would try and break free from its post. They were souls, after all, and their bodily reality was only an projection.  
So they would tear through the barb wire, hacking their own flesh and rending away chunks of muscle or even limbs in their desperation. They would stumble through the battlefield with what was left of their body and try and reach what Castiel knew in his heart for an illusion.  
There was another one going for that senseless hope, its psyche so shattered that he would not even try avoiding obstacles and the horrific mauling it was earning by blinndly negotiating the frontline.  
Then, out of nowhere, the blast, like that of a landmine. Castiel had memories of such things when he had watched humanity strike at itself  decades earlier. His mind, his human mind in particular, shuddered at the idea of going through such a thing without the shutdown a real body would provide in its weakness. The feeling of one's own psyche being torn apart piece by piece, and then waking up to feel the rot of one's very being. The expression "realm of the soul" now took the effect of a very cruel joke.   
But it wasn't yet over for the poor thing.  
A light, so much stronger and clear than before, shone on it from the clouds. They broke, and a luminous presence came down to retrieve the fallen, or what was left of it. Its light and beauty were so intense that even Benny and Castiel felt drawn to it.  
 It cradled the wretch, pulling together limbs and entrails and fusing them back in a searing touch that had the soul wail in pain, screaming prayers for the healing to end quickly. But it was not the healing, it was the very touch of the presence that burned like acid on the avatar of the soul, and the stronger it held the greater the pain; that was the price of hope in Hell.  
As a glimmer of hope appeared in the eyes of the soul, thinking that pain would have a reason and an aim, the presence lifted it and slowly walked through the desolation heading for the torture rack the soul belonged on.  
As the soul cried, not understanding why its saviour was heading that way. Pain and fear were so intense that even without his angelic powers, Casiel could see flashes of its past torments and feel pangs of pain where it must have been hurt the most. It was not just him, even Benny was wincing and the other victims on the racks were doubling in pain. Tera, strangely, did not seem affected at all. Castiel wondered what she really was.  
Meanwhile, as they got closer to the rack and the soul's hope burned away, turning to horror and to hate and fer for hope itself, the presence changed in form, growing darker and uglier, more fiery and bestial, a true form demon as it bound its victim again.  
A darker recess of Castiel's mind had a sort of appreciation for the perfection of how horror was conveyed and instilled into the soul. It was monstruous, it was inhuman and yet it was so intensely and effectively done. It really felt like the savage cruelty of a Knight of Hell.  
«And someone did bother hunting us monsters?» said Benny. «Seems we're little more than child bullies compared to this.»  
«It is sickening to see with the eyes of a mortal,» said Castiel.«But this is the order our Father wanted.»  
«Must be very proud of your family,» Benny answered, with spite in every word.  
«Right now I am wondering if I will ever have the strength to come back to it.»  
He needed a few seconds to let it sink in; the very fact of having said such a thing. Things he would never have voiced before, or maybe even thought. At times it felt like having a second mind speaking in his place, but he was beginning to suspect that much of what he was before was kept together by the inhuman restraint of his angelic being. After all, grace was by definition what kept close to God. Could it be a shield from one's self?  
«Something is missing,» said Benny.  
«What?» asked Castiel, slightly surprised that it may not be all.  
«This place has been created to be the most soul crushing thing. The first thing should be to make it closed and claustrophobic. Why give them breathing space?»  
«So?»  
«So keep a close eye on those skies, friend,» Benny pointed.  
He was right. There were flashes of light coming through the cloud cover, and a growing noise, not a rumble this time but a whistle, louder and more penetrating as the seconds passed.   
Out of the clouds came the deafening noise of a carpet bombing, their explosions shaking and tearing up the terrain up near the intruders position. Then came the shrapnel, too much to come from those bombs alone, and so thick and powerful that even Castiel and Benny had to fall down in the hope of shielding themselves.  
Castiel groaned in pain, Benny screamed curses so loud that it seemed Abaddon herslf would hear and come for them. Tera, again, seemed non plussed, if not actually enjoying the ride.  
«It affects everyone differently,»  
explained Castiel to a puzzled Benny. « You are a nearly human soul, the only one of us, and the shrapnel is a manifestation of torment aimed at a soul.  I am here in body, which should not happen, so it affects me much less.  
«It's a sort of shield. Did you wonder why Dean, as strong as he is in the real world, could take on leviathans in Purgatory? We are breaking scores of rules just being here.»  
«The Winchesters washing down on you?» smiled Benny.  
«Maybe. Someone said it has been going for a while.»  
«You look quite like them, if I didn't know what you are.»  
«Were,» Castiel said with a bitter smile.  
«And what about Tera, by the way?» Benny asked, looking at the girl in surprise.  
«The kind of soul counts, too. Look at the tormenters. They too get hit by the shrapnel, but the effect is different. Must be so they will become frustrated and more cruel, and possibly they are being punished too. Some of them were like the other souls, once.»  
For a second, Castiel had a glimpse of when he had found Dean. The righteous man who had spilled blood in Hell, all the while watching his own father resist that temptation. He had wondered if it had been more duty or compassion to move his hand in gripping Dean's shoulder. He had yet to find the answer.  
«And her?» pushed Benny.  
«I'm not sure she is what... whatever you think she is. She is so primal and savage that her soul must have few weaknesses to torture. If she has one at all.»  
«For what I've seen she might even enjoy it.»  
Benny laughed, a low and controlled laugh but surprising in the surroundings.  
Then they saw it.  
The charred remains of a burnt house, there in the middle of the battlefield. North American style, but not just any North American house. One Castiel  recognized . Only the lowest floor and a few walls remained, but there was no doubt. And someone, or something, stood in its middle.  
«He's not bound,»  
said Benny, worried, «and there is no tormentor with him.»  
«You are thinking of a trap,» said Castiel. «I don't think they are expecting anyone.»  
«Maybe not a trap, but we should be careful, my friend.»  
«We wouldn't be here if he were,» Castiel answered, and moved forward.  
All the tortured were spaced widely across the landscape, but they expected to be seen and called on or attacked at any moment. Castiel looked right and left every few seconds in expectation, but nothing happened.  Between bombings and illusions, the tormentors got back to their racks, some in pain, some with enjoyment .  
The walk to the house was short, shorter than it had appeared to their eyes.  
It's where you need to be, thought Castiel. As he neared the place, though, what he felt was not a sense of hope but one of dread.   
Benny was right: it was unusual for Hell to leave such a costly prize unguarded. Even if Hell was not aware of what had really happened, Dean's coming would have been too relevant to ignore. Unless...   
There was only one thing that could hold a soul in that place with more strength than any demon. As he came nearer to the crouching figure in the house, he begun to suspect that was the reason.   
He stopped a few steps short of the entrance. The figure was still in the shadows, and apparently had no awareness of their coming.  
«What is it?» Benny asked.  
«You should stay back here,» he said.  
Benny smiled.  
«Sorry, man, we're not. He's my friend, too. You do your thing and I won't interfere, but I won't wait out.»  
«If that's what you want.»  
He took a few more steps and he was in the room. He was not that surprised when the lights shifted slightly and the air grew colder.   
He turned for an instant and saw that now there were demons looking at him in the distance. They would not come near, but they were looking, and they were many. And the landscape had changed too: a grey forest of dead, petrified trees.  
That was why he really wanted Benny to stay out: he had hoped the way back would stay open, present and clearly visible. But that was a silly hope from the start, he thought. This was Dean Winchester's very own pit of punishment and despair, in a way that not even the rulers of Hell could control easily. He wondered if that was the reason the demons themselves wouldn't come nearer.  
«How does it work, now?» Benny called from behind.  
«It works by Dean Winchester's rules,» Castiel answered, loud. «Isn't that so, Dean?»  
The figure had come into the light. A vigorous man crouching before a burnt wall, its skin covered in tattered remains of clothing and a web of cuts, burns and bruises.  
«You should not have come here, Cas,» said a hoarse voice.  
Dean turned his head slowly, looking up at Castiel. His eyes were white.  


* * *

  


#  V

  
Dean's eyes were white.  
«You should not have come here, Cas,» he said.  
«I know,» Castiel answered.  
I have always known, he said to himself. He had seen this coming since  the day he laid his hands on the tormented soul of  a hunter destined to bring Apocalypse to Earth, not knowing that he would soon come to help stop it from ever happening.  
«I have always known, Dean» he repeated aloud.  
He looked at the wall, at the letters and symbols painted in blood on it. There were calls for help, and prayers for forgiveness, mostly faded. Enochian writing, prayers for others to be safe as he atoned in their place. There was Castiel's name, never in full. And Sam, and Kevin, even old Bobby whose soul was long resting in peace. These writings, these symbols of protections were more recent. But they were not the last.  
Calls to stay away. Sigils that would bar any angel from coming in that place. Any real angel, thought Castiel with a bitter grin. After all, what could be easier than keeping grace away in a place for those who fell from it?  
The most recent writing was for him. An almost obsessive pattern of his names and pleas, calls and even orders to leave Dean Winchester to his own damnation. All of them drawn in ashes and blood.   
Had he still been an angel, Castiel would have heard every single one of those calls, and he would have been able to reach him in an instant, ignoring even the rules of time in Hell. And he would have been shut out of the house by the sigils. But there could be no sigil to shield a place from man, as God had decided a long, long time before.  
He looked at Dean's wounds. They healed very fast, only to be replaced by new ones, and as those faded out new ones and older ones appeared in their place. Dean would not say a word or wince, though the pain must be terrible. Some he recognized, as they pulsed in, split their blood or burned out and faded away. Dean's face was covered and disfigured by them, but most disturbing were those expressionless white eyes.  
Then, to Castiel surprise, a brief instant of suffering transpired from Dean, his eyes narrowing and his jaw tensing. It was just a moment, but Castiel knew where to look and caught a glimpse of one particular wound glowing in and fading away; a handprint on Dean's shoulder.  
He smiled.  
«You must leave me, please,» said Dean, as his body started to shiver.  
«No,» he answered, and came nearer.  
«I'm sorry, man,» Dean said.  
Out of nowhere, a powerful force blasted Castiel and the other against walls and pillars, crushing and holding them there.   
Tera shrieked in pain as she felt her bones slowly breaking apart. Benny's fangs came out, and his eyes were pried wide open, blood dripping from both.   
Castiel felt like his chest exploded, as an enochian sigil was suddenly cut out of it, as he had done himself long ago. He was almost surprised not to black out from the pain, infinitely stronger than anything he had ever felt before.  
He struggled to keep his eyes focused on Dean.  
«You have to understand, Cas,» he said, picking up a splinter of wood. «I belong in this place. It was my destiny to stay here.»  
«No, Dean,» Castiel said with what little strength he could summon. «You never belonged here.»  
«Do I? I remember killing monsters for what they were and not for what they did. I remember causing pain to my brother, to my friends, just to keep them with me. I did not leave Hell open to save Sammy's life, Cas, I just wanted him by my side. I betrayed my father's trust and Mom's wishes so many times, for this. Damn it, Cas, I started the bloody Apocalypse!»  
There was little sorrow and much rage in his words, but he was crying, tears boiling up as they descended along his scarred face.  
«You were a righteous man, Dean,» Cas struggled, «or the seal would never have been broken.»  
«Yes, I was the righteous man, right. The righteous man  who fell . Everyone thought my father would be the one, but no, it was  my  own privilege. It says a lot.»  
«And Heaven decided you should have another chance. I myself took care of it, remember?»  
«Because they needed me! They needed me for their Armageddon crap. They didn't even notice what they had pulled out, did they? Did you, Cas?»  
He was holding the splinter so tight that it cut a fresh wound in his hands.  
And almost by magic the same wound appeared in Castiel and the others. As he winced in pain, Castiel saw that some of the demons had come nearer to the house, watching with their expressionless black eyes. But now they too were affected by Dean, and one by one they feel on their knees, each one with scars from them and those they possessed reopening slowly, one by one.  
«I always knew, Dean,» he spoke with ever growing effort, «always.»  
«You knew,» Dean frowned, perplexed.  
The force that was holding them all to the walls weakened for a second, and they fell to the ground. It felt like a flicker, and now they were held to the floorboards with the same strength. Benny was retching blood and bile, Tera looked like a broken puppet, her lifeless eyes staring sideways at the scene; in between spasms, Benny looked at her body in disbelief.  
Castiel pulled himself on his feet, slowly and through excruciating fits. He was shaking and sweating intensely.  
«How could I not? Your soul was the first thing I touched and held. I saw it all. And I protected you from that day on.»  
«But how?» asked Dean.  
«My grace. Don't you understand, Dean? My grace protected you all this time. Wherever I was, however weak I could be, it would always keep you safe from... this.  
«My poor friend,» he added shaking his head. «When I found you, the first time I touched your soul, I saw the damage they had made. I was not allowed to undo that at the time, so I left something on you. You would be protected by that darkness, for the time being. I never imagined it would  have to last this long,»  
he smiled.  
«So you just had me  believe  I was saved? With  this thing  inside me ? »  
«You  were  saved, Dean. I knew something had come with you, but I couldn't cure you of it, at the time. All those years of torture, of becoming a torturer yourself, they burned so intensely in you that they scarred your soul itself. And in the scars there was an emptiness, so you took something from Alastair. You did not want it, you never needed it and you never made it a part of your true self, but it was there.  
«So I gave you a piece of my grace for protection. It would not hide what had transpired, but it shielded you from Alastair's intrusion. I could not imagine one day I my grace would be ripped from me.  
«You are  still  saved, Dean. You are a good man. And I won't leave you here.»  
He rose fully, and took a first, slow and heavy step towards Dean.  
«I'm sorry, Cas,» grimaced Dean.  
He rose, facing Castiel, and with the splinter cut through his chest, deeply.   
Castiel looked down to see the same cut burst outwards through his body, blood spraying everywhere and breath leaving him all of a sudden. But he knew not to trust the maddening pain and the furious drumming of his heart. As much as his now human body was betraying him, he needed to stand. He pushed with all strength, but he found his knee on the ground.  
«I cannot come,» said Dean. «I don't want to come. This is my punishment, Cas, this is the place where I should stay. It's my  judgement , and I must carry it.»  
«Then you will listen to mine, my friend,» growled Castiel, trembling with pain.  
He slowly pulled himself up, shaky on his legs, swaying slowly in search of something to lean on, grasping a beam just barely, one tiny movement short of falling. Part of him tried to focus on keeping the ground stable under his feet, but there was something else his mind was reaching for.   
An encounter, a long time ago. His duty to save a human soul from Hell. A name, an identity and the knowledge that he was not to be saved for his virtue but because a greater plan had been woven around him.  
He had dived, along with his brothers,  and hit the bastions of Hell with all the force of grace flowing pure and unbridled through him. Brothers had fallen as he mowed down scores of demons in his descent. Until he was alone in front of the soul. Of that unknown human Heaven had took so much trouble for.  
« I remember the day I found you here.  I remember the broken, corrupt husk of a soul. And I remember hesitating. Yes, I did hesitate. What was I really saving? So I did the easiest thing and looked inside you as I took you with me.   
«You say you sinned? Yes, you did, greatly. But there are many sins, and yours were all sins of desperation, sins made when all hope had died, when every grace was denied to you. And you knew of your fall because you always remembered what was the right path. And that hurt you more, and was penance enough in itself.  
«I saved you, Dean, yes. I saved you from the pain of Hell. But I did not absolve you, I didn't need to. This scar Alastair left in you was damage, not guilt. And it can be healed.»  
«What for?» shouted Dean. «To fall again? I cannot allow that, Cas.»  
He planted the splinter with force in one leg and then the other, watching Castiel sway as the wounds broke through his body and clothes.  
Castiel grunted in pain but stood on his feet. He was feeling weak. Even if his body was acting as a shield for his soul, contrary to the other presences around him, he could still die there. So slow it felt to him like he was in a dream, he picked his weapons one by one and dropped them on the floor. They would be of little use anyway. One by one, they all fell to the ground.  
Dean was looking at him in fear, now. Fear of something fragile as a human shell but implacable as an angel. He stabbed himself time and time again, and one by one all the cuts exploded on Castiel's too, but they no longer seemed to stop him. Castiel came forward with arms open wide.  
«There is only so much you can do to me, Dean,» he said as a cut opened under his eye to bleed on his chin. «A long time ago our Father sent his favourite  to save humanity from itself . He was persecuted and tortured, but that did not stop him from carrying on his mission. And who am I, if not my Father's son ? »  
Dean fell down, trembling, looking away from Castiel's fevered stare.  
Castiel knelt beside him and took Dean's firmly head in his hands, forcing them to look in each other's eyes.  
«Still my own Dean Winchester,» he smiled, «who can't believe he deserves to be saved...»  
And he brought their mouths together and breathed in him.  
Dean body spasmed and thrashed as hit by lightning, but Castiel did not let him go. He did not flinch, and did not look around as something crackled over the clouds. He did not see Benny stumbling to his feet and  watch around him in fear, he did not care for the demons daring to come closer, he did not see the horde of  crawlers coming back at them, slowly but steadily, now that Hell knew it had been violated.  
Then Dean exhaled and reopened his eyes, human green eyes staring back at Castiel, who took his breath in and freed him.  
«I'm weak, Cas,» was all he managed to say, in a broken voice.  
«Don't worry, Dean. I'm not,» said Castiel, and lifted him in his arms.  
Dean closed his eyes and lost consciousness, but he was still alive,  whatever that meant in Hell . Castiel was still bleeding, but many of the wounds  were slowly fading away. He turned around slowly, and looked at the hosts coming to bring him down.  
«Scared?» Dean asked.  
«Are you?»  
Benny looked at them and nodded with a grin, then picked up the Purgatory blade.  
«I don't think we have much chances, angel,» he said. «If you have another trick up your sleeve, it's time to use it. But this.... this was something worth seeing, and wouldn't be half bad as a way to go.»  
He chose a defensive stance and looked at the enemies, baring his fangs.  
Then a violent crunching sound distracted them all. It was coming from the body of Tera.  
It started to shake, and then was propped upright, as if she wanted to stand up, but all the bones had taken a wrong shape. Like a broken puppet, she straggled one step left and one right and so on randomly, contorting every few of them. Then she mutated. Her clawish hands became long, razor sharp claws of black skin, her legs so much like a satyr's, powerful hooved things, and ample wings exploded from her back. A new beastly visage roared in fury and hunger at the many preys in front of her.  
Benny took a step backwards, still covering Castiel and Dean.   
But the monstruous mask that once was Tera was looking back at them with a fanged smile, and her growl sounded friendly enough to him. Benny lowered his weapon and made a tiny bow at the monster.  
In response, the creature jumped forward and smashed into the crowd of demons and crawlers with the force of a cannonball, sending bodies flying everywhere. And then the feast begun, as she dismembered and clawed and ate her way into everything that would not run.  
It was over in a seconds, and just one crawler passed the onslaught, only to have Benny crush it under his feet.  
The monster that was Tera turned and walked up to them. There was something feral in her eyes, as if she was still deciding whether to eat them too or not. But, as Benny had done for her before, she bowed to them.  
«You can come with us, you know,» said Benny.  
It took a while for the creature to form a sound that was not just growling, but in the end something resembling a human voice came from her.  
«It is fun here. I think I will stay. I... I didn't eat so well in a long time. Thanks Benny, it was fun. And you, Jim. You were funny too. Go, they will stay away for a while.»  
«Thanks, Tera. I won't forget.»  
«Come visit,» she made a strange noise that Benny took as a laugh.  
The way out of Hell was not far, and Castiel did not need to stop and rest. Dean was light in his arms, and the nearer Castiel came to the passage between  Hell and Purgatory, the stronger he felt. They glanced one last time at Tera prowling the landscape, and left.  
  


***

  
In Purgatory the whole little pack of Benny was waiting for them. Apparently they had managed to stick together, the vampire noted with some pride.   
Dean seemed in a haze, finding just enough strength to stay walk supported by Benny and Castiel; the pack gave him a few rags they had taken from their enemies.  
«Portals come up now and then,» explained Benny. «It's like everything became less stable in the last few days. And they don't stay open that long. There is one not far from here, if you can do it.»  
Dean accepted, and Castiel nodded in approval.  
Benny's motley pack made their brief journey a safe one; the size of the pack seemed eason enough to make even leviathans hold their hunger. There wasn't much talk as they moved and nobody mentioned the fact that Tera was missing; there would be time for that, away from the strangers.  
As Castiel prepared the spell to take a soul with him through the portal, Dean said his goodbye to Benny.  
«Seems I am in debt with you again, buddy. Tell me I can do something to thank you. Anything, man.»  
«There is only one thing you have to do to make me happy, my friend,»  
said Benny, hands on both shoulders and looking straight in his eyes with a smile. «Never come to visit ever again,»  
and pressed him in a long bear hug.  
The vampire then waited in silence until Castiel had taken the soul inside himself.  
«You did quite a bit for a simple human,» he said. «Just keep this in mind and you won't miss those wings. Can you do one more thing for me, though? Send some bastards to our mutual friend down there, will you?»  
«I... we will.»  
Castiel held the glowing arm before Benny. The vampire closed his hand around the glow and nodded. Then he pointed at the portal, which was starting to wane.  
  


***

  
To Dean it simply felt like waking up. No rushes towards the light, no voyage of the mind, nothing. It felt almost underwhelming, after everything he had seen and felt. But there he was, standing in the forest that surrounded the bunker, and alive and well.  
Castiel stood beside a now empty grave, looking back at him. He seemed tired, and some of the wounds he had been inflicted in Hell had remained on him. Dean rushed to him and held him, in part fearing that the toll Hell had taken on his friend could overcome him.  
«How are you feeling, man?» he asked.  
«Like I've been human for a day and a half,» said Castiel.  
«Not all it's cracked up to be, ain't it?»  
«I will tell you when I get to the good parts.»  
Castiel pulled back, showing he could stand up on his own.  
«You have to explain me this "human" thing,» said Dean. «What happened? Was it...»  
«Yes, it was Metatron. I'll tell you the whole story, just...»  
He was trying to get his bearings. Dean looked around trying to see if there was anything Castiel was looking for specifically.  
«Just what?» Dean asked.  
«For some reason my body has this intense craving for...»  
Castiel tried to focus, «beer. I think it's beer.»  
«Now?» asked Dean, surprised. «Shouldn't we get back to...» he gestured expectantly.  
Castiel smiled.  
«There's a bit to walk before we get to the bunker. We had to avoid drawing too much attention to the place, so we put you far from it. And I think there's a bar on the way.»  
Castiel was smirking. He was tired, hurt  and with more than a couple of stains that would hardly pass as fresh hunting accidents,  but he had thought up that little stop for them to rest, and felt good about it. It wasn't practical, it wasn't essential. It was very human, though.  
Dean laughed. He thought he had forgotten how it felt, while in Hell. But it came natural to him. He felt better. He had felt pure in Purgatory, but now he was feeling complete. Just complete,  he thought.  
They started walking.  
«So what is exactly you did down there? And... I mean, won't you become a weird monster or just go all S&M on everybody?»  
he joked.  
«Well,» Castiel shrugged, as if he was retelling some minor detail, «There was a part of Alastair in you, so I took it out, I absorbed it if you will.»  
Dean turned to him, with a worried look.  
«Not the funny farm stuff again, man, please.»  
«No, no,» Castiel laughed softly. «My soul is very... old, Dean. I may not have my grace anymore, but my soul is the same I had once. And it won't be long before that splinter of Alastair is burned once and for all. You need not to worry.»  
«And what about me? Singing Aerosmith for the rest of my life?»  
Dean wasn't sure  why he wanted to make so many silly jokes right there. He only knew it felt like he hadn't had a good time in years. Silly, joyous good times. He remembered many, but they all felt so far away.  
«I took care of that. It's complex, but... Let's just say I needed to replace the splinter and I used what I had with me at the moment.»  
Castiel grinned, and Dean laughed. They stopped for a second so he could let it all go. It just sounded fun to him.  
«You mean there's a bit of Castiel in me? This is awesome, man,» he was nearly in tears as he tried to compose himself. «So I am me and part of you? I don't know, man, maybe I should introduce me to people as... Dean-slash-Cas? Dean-stiel?»  
They laughed together again. It was liberating.  
Then, when he had calmed down, he looked away and asked the other thing that had been on his mind since he had seen Castiel in the pits of Hell.  
«So when do you think your mission to save me will be over, then?»  
«Well, Dean,» answered Castiel, almost casually, «that has  been over for a long while...»  
Castiel put an arm around Dean's shoulder.  
They walked through the trees as the evening set in.  
  



End file.
